


another kind of hunger

by dragdragdragon



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 5+ times Barry turned red, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Chef!Leonard Snart, Chef!Mick Rory, Fluff, Food Porn, Food Trucks, M/M, Oblivious Barry, Sous Chef!Lisa Snart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6280126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragdragdragon/pseuds/dragdragdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry's favorite food truck never comes around more than once a week. Until one day, it's taken over by another chef.</p>
<p>Cue obliviousness and hilarity.</p>
<p>or the one time Chef Leonard Snart takes over Chef Rory's food truck for a week and worms his way into Barry's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	another kind of hunger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hardyness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hardyness/gifts).



> Happy belated birthday, [ darling](http://hardyness.tumblr.com/), way more than a month late. Thank you for being so patient!!!! This might not be exactly what you envisioned when you asked for more food!au, but I hope you like it anyways. It was such a fun thing to write. 
> 
> <3<3<3 You're a fantastic human who makes the most amazing gifs and gifsets. <3<3<3
> 
> big thanks to [kelsey](http://that-pumpkinspicewhitegirl.tumblr.com/) for making this readable. honestly, you're the best. please go follow this beautiful person.
> 
> EDIT: hardyness made me a gifset!!!!! It's so amazing, holy hell. Check it out: ["Can't handle the heat, Barry?"](http://coldsflash.tumblr.com/post/141307662836/another-kind-of-hunger-by-dragdragdragon-barrys)

Barry was starving, the ready-to-melt-into-the-ground and could-barely-lift-a-finger kind of starving. The lab techs kept giving him death glares as his stomach grumbled loudly every time he even budged a centimeter.

 

Barry had been waiting all day and all week for the glorious return of Heatwave, a food truck that won his heart with the divine and creative sandwiches that had the perfect level of heat and then some. The meat was always moist and perfectly cooked. Barry had been salivating all morning and skipped breakfast so he could order two times the amount and consume it all.

 

The biggest issue Barry had with Heatwave, beyond the fact that the owner/chef was terrifying, was that it only came by once a week and nowhere near the CCPD station. It was always at least five blocks away. Barry had tried to ask the food truck dude why, but before he could finish the sentence, the man growled and stared back in a menacing way, causing Barry to sputter and stop talking.

 

When he reached the food truck today and stood below the awning, there was a different man in the truck, someone he’d never seen before. It had always been the chef with the raised burn scars that covered both of his arms, almost without fail until now.

 

The man leaned forward; the light hit his face just right, highlighting the most gorgeous baby blue eyes and the sharpest cheekbones. What Barry normally called ‘the douchebag smirk’ made the man look even more sinfully breathtaking, if that was even possible. When Barry looked down to read the chalkboard menu, he noticed a sliver of skin, an inch of wrist revealed from the chef’s coat sleeve scrunching up.

 

Barry was thoroughly distracted by this gorgeous man’s tattoo, a pattern of tiny snowflakes spanning throughout the pale underside of his wrists. He wanted to tug off the chef jacket and follow the tattoos until they disappeared, or until he mapped out every inch of the man’s body.

 

“What do you want?” the man asked; his voice was low and just the perfect amount of rough.

 

“Your sausage,” Barry blurted out. His face turned instantly bright red.

 

“Well, since you asked so nicely, _Scarlet_ ,” the man said with a smug smile, humor dancing in his eyes.

 

If Barry wasn’t dying from hunger and embarrassment, he was definitely dying from the man’s smile that sent lightning down to his toes. _Fuck_.

 

After five long torturous minutes, the man hands him the food. The bread had the perfect crunch, dices of habanero and sharp mustard coated the juicy sausage. Barry moaned as took his first bite, too hungry to wait.

 

“God, that was too good,” Barry said as he ordered another one.

 

“Nice to meet a fan,” the man said. “Here all week.”

 

“W-what? Wait. For real? Heatwave is never in the same spot for a whole week.”

 

“Mick’s sick and doesn’t get a say,” the man said, chuckling.

 

Barry knew at that exact moment he would eat at Heatwave every day until the owner came back with the regularly scheduled Monday lunches.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The second day was a gorgeous spicy lamb burger with feta and kalamata olive tapenade that tasted like an orgasm in Barry’s mouth. He practically moaned into the burger. The substitute chef made a strange noise afterwards, but it blew right past Barry.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until the third day that Barry learned the gorgeous man’s name.

 

The last two times Barry had visited, he had arrived at Heatwave exactly 12:08 on the dot. Wednesday was no different. The model -- god, Barry could just imagine him in underwear ads, looking so smoking hot that Barry could spends hours just looking at him and spending lots of alone time -- leaned over; his sleeves pushed up to reveal more skin and tattoos. The snowflakes expanded and faded into a moon with a woman’s profile.

 

“Here,” the man said, smile so slight, as he hands over a plate.

 

Barry took it, fingers tingling and feeling incredibly pleased, as he grinned so brightly that the sun must have looked dull.

 

The first bite was heaven. The tanginess from the mozzarella counterbalanced with the sweetness of the tomato and the fresh basil. There was little bit of heat at the end that sat at the tip of his tongue, burning. God, if he could eat a sandwich everyday, it would be this one.

 

“Oh god,” Barry moaned as he couldn’t stop eating. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

 

Barry must have looked like a mess, the sandwich was dripping a little -- okay a lot -- and smearing on his cheek and covering his hands, but he literally could not care, except he couldn’t seem to shut up while stuffing his face.

 

“This is so good. I’ll remember this forever. I can’t believe I don’t know your name because damn, I need to pin it to this sandwich forever,” Barry babbled, mouth full.

 

The guy laughed until it turned slightly strangled as Barry started to suck on his fingers after taking his last bite, savouring every last bit of sauce and cheese. The guy must have been trying to choke back a cough. He really should look up to check on the other man, but he couldn’t break away from tasting every morsel.

 

“Len,” the man said as he handed Barry some napkins.

 

“Thank you?” Barry replied, a little lost as he tried to clean up his face and hands.

 

“You were wondering about my name. It’s Len. Chef Leonard Snart,” Len said, with a smirk. His face looked slightly flushed and Barry wondered if the other man was coming down with anything.

 

“Oh! Barry! I mean, my name is Barry Allen. Uh, hi,” Barry said awkwardly, turning bright red. Len’s heated gaze caused the redness to creep down his neck.

 

“Since you’re so appreciative, this one’s on the house,” Len said coolly, before turning away to man his grill.

 

“No, you don’t… thank you,” Barry mumbled, embarrassed but touched by the gesture. He shoved some cash into the tip jar and ran before his mouth could loosen and accidently tell the beautiful chef named Len exactly what Barry wanted to do to him, with or without the chef’s jacket.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The fourth day was an amazing hot chicken and waffles monster. The waffles that sandwiched the fried chicken were sweet and gooey. The chicken was moist and tender, but it was the skin that stole the show. It was perfectly crisp and beyond spicy, almost too hot for Barry to handle. So hot he could feel his face flush from the heat.

 

As Barry licked the grease from his lips, Len started to open his mouth. He made a choking noise instead.

 

“Are you okay?” Barry asked in concern.

 

“You have something on your face,” Len said in a strained voice, gesturing violently towards Barry’s right.

 

“Oh! Thanks,” Barry said before immediately sticking his tongue out and dragging the tip against the skin of his cheek, right where he could feel his dimple starting to form.   

 

“Let me,” Len said as he leaned down and grabbed Barry’s chin. He slowly dragged his calloused thumb on Barry’s cheek. It caused Barry’s breath to catch at the base of his throat, and he shivered under Len’s touch.

 

The other man abruptly let go of Barry’s chin and stepped back further into the food truck. Barry stared at Len’s retreating figure, almost in shock. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Barry dashed away, filing the very instance of Len’s touch in the back of his brain for revisiting later. _Frequent revisiting._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The fifth day was a superb no-fuss grilled cheese and Hatch green chile sandwich that knocked Barry’s _socks_ off. The cheddar and mozzarella cheese helped cool down the otherwise insanely hot, but incredibly flavorful smoky green chile.

 

Barry’s face was flushed and dripping with sweat, and he couldn’t stop himself from eating more and more despite the fact that his mouth was on fire. It was so hot that he was becoming light headed and euphoric. If he kept eating, the immense spiciness should only get better, right?

 

Barry couldn’t be more wrong, but it was worth every bite.

 

“Can’t handle the heat, Barry?” Len asked, eyes twinkling with a combination of laughter and smugness as he looked pointedly at the drip of sweat falling from Barry’s forehead.

 

“Oh, I can handle it,” Barry said with a huff. He was a little irritated that Len doubted his ability to handle the heat.

 

“How about I help you cool down?” Len asked with an even more self-satisfied look on his face.

 

Barry sucked on his bottom lip and looked up through his lashes. “How so?” he replied, trying to sound as cool as possible.

 

“Visit again on Saturday. Keystone Park by the south entrance. And you’ll find out how,” Len said with a wink.

 

Barry’s brain fizzled to a complete stop. Chef Leonard Snart -- the hottest man alive -- just winked at spazzy, pole-thin Barry. Len was flirting with _him_.

 

Barry did nothing as he watched the food truck speed away, dust flying in his face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Barry came back on Saturday. 12:08 pm on the dot with a stomach completely worked up from nerves. He had sat in front of the mirror for hours Friday night, rehearsing his lines.

 

“Yo, dinner?” Barry had said to the mirror, tilting his his head. He scrunched his face and wrinkled his nose. Too casual and wrong.

 

“So I was thinking,” Barry had said next, pensively stroking his fingers on his chin, “do you remember when I said I wanted your sausage? Well, I didn’t just mean your food.” He had promptly turned red from thinking about Len’s dick and the most embarrassing moment of saying ‘your sausage’ to Len as a first impression. Barry had just given himself emotional whiplash. _Fuck his life_.

 

Barry had finally settled with the casual, but polite line of ‘Hey, would you like to go out to dinner with me?’ He practiced speaking it until his voice grew hoarse, because he knew that Saturday could be the very last day he would see Len.

 

When he reached the awning and looked up with a huge grin already plastered on his face despite the nerves, he found Heatwave’s actual owner, Mick.

 

Barry’s face crumpled instantly. He was too late. Len had told him that --

 

“You’re Barry? Don’t worry, kid. Snart said he’ll be here. Not manning my food truck though. That bastard already ruined my line,” Mick interrupted Barry’s thoughts with a smirk.

 

“That’s ‘cause you’re the most disorganized chef I know,” a deep rich voice said from behind Barry.

 

Barry whipped his head around to see Len in a long sleeve black shirt, tight around his biceps and fitting jeans that really show off his gorgeous _everything_. Barry’s pretty sure if he wasn’t already blushing, he was now.

 

“Fuck off, Snart,” Mick growled. “Go take your boy to lunch. I don’t wanna see your face until I fix the mess you made in my truck.”

 

Barry’s face was definitely a bright tomato red. He felt flushed -- his face extremely hot and he was 100% sure that he would faint if Mick kept calling him _Len’s boy_.

 

Len’s eyes were taking Barry apart as his heated gaze slid up Barry’s body at a glacial pace, causing Barry’s knees to go weak and electric shivers to run down his spine. Len’s eyes were a brilliant icy blue framed by long lashes and really Barry couldn’t be blamed for what he said next.

 

“God, you’re so hot,” Barry said, breathless and astonished. As soon as he said it, his mind halted and he slammed his hands over his face, eyes wide in shock.

 

“Scarlet, you’re too kind,” Len said with a smug smile. His cheeks were tinged with a little pink. “Let’s take this party to the road, hmmm? You, me, and some food?”

 

Len’s voice held the perfect amount of gravel, and it took everything Barry had to _not_ make an indistinguishable noise. Instead, Barry nodded vigorously after dropping his hands to his side.

 

Len offered his arm and Barry took it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was nice out. The sun was shining brightly and there was a gentle breeze that gave Barry relief whenever the sunbeams hit him too strongly. Len’s arms were strong and muscular and perfect underneath Barry’s hands. He couldn’t believe he was touching any part of Len’s body, but was afraid of opening his mouth and cause the other man to shift away.

 

They abruptly stopped underneath a big frightfully red neon sign that read “Saints and Sinners.” The exterior looked run down with its peeling paint and battered doors. Barry was surprised to see themselves at a bar that had seen better days _for lunch_.

 

The shock must have transferred into Barry’s face, because as soon as Len glanced over, he chuckled.

 

“Doesn't look like much, but as soon as I'm done with all the renovations, it’ll return to the glorious beauty it once was,” Len said, looking up at the flickering sign with a soft smile.

 

“This place is yours?” Barry asked in wonder.

 

“Let's go inside and I'll tell you all about it,” Len said, opening the door and gesturing for Barry to step inside.

 

What Barry found upon entering was a shell of a restaurant and a partly built bar. The red booths were covered in plastic and missing tables. The floors were a beautiful but dusty mahogany, the walls exposed brick, but the first thing that caught Barry’s eyes was a gorgeous five tiered sparkling chandelier that reminded him instantly of one he saw at an old mobster’s house that he had analyzed for work.

 

“Wow,” Barry said. He could see the potential of the place and why Len would be so drawn to it.

 

“Before it was a dive bar, it was a speakeasy. There’s still tunnels underneath where they snuck in prohibited alcohol. The kitchen is where the --” Len was interrupted by a gurgling of Barry’s stomach. He smirked. “That’s my cue. Sounds like you need food more than a lecture. Follow me to the kitchen.”

 

“My stomach has a mind of its own, I’m sorry!” Barry said rapidly as he stretched his long legs to catch up to Len’s descent into the kitchen, and he couldn’t stop the ensuing babble from pouring from his mouth if he had tried. “But I really love what you’ve done so far. I bet it’ll be amazing once you’ve finished renovating it. Please don’t stop talking on account of me and my traitorous stomach! I mean, you know, I’d love to hear more cool facts about this place, if you still wanna tell me.”

 

“It’s fine, Scarlet. I promised food and I always deliver on my promises,” Len said, pulling a stool out of what looked like an office and placing it besides a long steel table.

 

Barry stared at the long lines of Len’s back as he stretched up to grab a plate off the shelf. He lost himself thinking about how much he wanted to _touch_.

 

“Barry,” Len said, gesturing to the stool. “Sit and try this while you wait. I know how _big_ your appetite is.”

 

“Oh! Thank you,” Barry said, blinking slowly out of his thoughts. Len had created a spread of food while Barry was musing about the different ways he could break. He took a step forward, almost knocked into a shelf that definitely wasn’t there a minute ago, before finding his way to the chair, totally unscathed if he wasn’t counting the banging of his funny bone against the metal of the table.

 

The texture of the soft bread and butteriness of the spread of meat was -- god, so delicious and savory, with just a little bit of heat, that Barry couldn’t help but let out a moan.

 

“What is this?” Barry asked, mouth still full.

 

“The bread is from a local bakery, Peek-a-Boo. The spread is something I’ve been tinkering with. It’s a rillette, cooked down pork and shredded until it becomes a spread of meat and fat goodness. Now, try this,” Len said, picking up a cube of cheese.

 

Barry leaned forward, dragging his lips against the tip of Len’s pointer finger to grab the morsel of food with his mouth. He bit into it as he fluttered his eyes closed. He savoured the sharpness of the cheddar as it cut through the fat from the rillette. When Barry opened his eyes, he was met by Len’s intense gaze, devouring every inch of Barry’s expression as he tilted Barry’s face up with the same hand Barry ate from. The other man drifted closer to Barry, and Barry _knew_ what was about to --

 

“Oi! I finalized the drink menu and I just --” A woman’s voice called out as the kitchen door banged open. “Fuck, Lenny. You didn’t tell me you were bringing a _boy_ in here.”

 

Len dropped his hand from Barry’s face and straightened his posture. “Sis, meet Barry. Barry, this is my sous chef and my sister, Lisa. She was just _leaving_.”

 

Barry leaned back, pushing himself up to his feet, and turned to met meet the sister, face was still warm from a mix of embarrassment and arousal. Lisa was sporting a look that Barry was sure could literally kill him -- like, if Barry _breathed_ wrong, she would probably knock him out without a sweat. She was decked in leather and mischief shorn through her cold eyes. If Barry didn’t just learn that they were related, he would have been able to tell just by the familiar smirk plastered on her face. Completely ignoring Len’s comment about leaving, Lisa sauntered over to the table.

 

“So, _Barry_ ,” Lisa said as she grabbed a piece of bread and smeared rillette on to it. “Aren’t you cute? Now, tell me all about you. Where are you from? What do you do? How did you meet my  brother?”

 

“For real?” Barry asked incredulously. He coughed, awkwardly raising a hand in a half-wave before immediately lowering it again. “Uh, hi, Lisa, Len’s scary sister. I, uh, I’ve lived here all my life. I’m a forensic scientist for the CCPD. I really like Heatwave and Len’s been keeping it stationed near my work, and I’m addicted to his saus-- I mean, sandwiches! Yeah.” Barry clamped his mouth shut, feeling his cheeks heat ridiculously.

 

“You’re dating a badge?” Lisa hissed, fists clenched so hard the bread in her hands crumbled almost instantly.

 

“I’m not a badge!” Barry hastened to assure. “I just work--”

 

“Okay, so you’re not a cop, but you do work for a _vile_ institution,” Lisa seethed, and Barry could physically _see_ her get more worked up the further she continued. “Do you know what the CCPD has done to us? Lenny went to _jail_ for saving my life, and your _cops_ get to shoot at any civilian without remorse or justice. Do you--”

 

“That’s enough!” Len interrupted in a growl. His eyes flashed dangerously at his sister, though the expression softened when he turned back to Barry. “I’m sorry, Barry, I wasn’t expecting Lisa butting into our date. If you want to leave, now that you’ve been enlightened to some of my history, I’d understand. I admit, I’ll be disappointed, but I’d understand.”

 

Len stood so still, he looked like a stone statue. His face was completely void of emotion, but his eyes were heavy with what looked suspiciously like hurt. Lisa looked -- well, Barry had to avoid looking into her anger if he was going to attempt to speak.

 

“I--I don’t want to leave,” Barry started hesitantly. “I mean -- I like you, a lot. You’re snarky and like sex personified and I would die happy eating your food everyday. And I don’t -- I don’t care about your past. I _do_ work for CCPD and my foster dad _is_ a cop. A good cop. But my dad...” Barry paused, unsure if he should continue, except Lisa had already told him so much about them and, well, it was only fair. “My dad was released from Iron Heights a year ago, and he hasn’t been able to practice medicine since. I think he’s happy to spend his time outdoors and surrounded by open sky, but the stigma even for someone wrongly convicted is still hard to live with.”

 

“Oh,” Lisa said, and the anger drained from her eyes and her posture almost as quickly as it had formed. “How do you work for them? After all that?”

 

“Like I said, Joe -- my other dad -- he’s a good cop,” Barry said with conviction, heart thundering. “And I do good! I help put the guilty in jail and prove the innocence of others. The system doesn’t always work, and it’s not always fair, but -- I like to think I’m surrounded by good people that try to do what’s right.”

 

It became quiet for an indiscernible amount of time, long seconds stretching into even longer minutes. The room was filled with a thick fog of awkward stillness, but it allowed Barry to think -- perhaps too much.

 

The conversation had gone from teasing to serious so quickly that Barry had hardly any time to absorb all of what Lisa had said. He diverted his gaze and swallowed; a hard lump of worry was stuck in his throat.

 

Barry could feel it in his bones -- the same way he could feel rain in his joints coming from miles away -- that Len had good in him, regardless of what may have haunted his past. He yearned to know more about the other man, about how he grew to love food, or how he would look just waking up with the sun blinding his eyes. Barry wasn’t sure, after such a strange heart-to-heart, that Len would still be even interested in more.

 

_If Len was ever interested in Barry._

 

“You should leave--” Len started to say.

 

All of the air rushed out of Barry’s lungs. _Oh fuck_ , he thought. _I fucked up. How did I--_

 

“--Lisa. Now,” Len finished sternly, jutting his chin at the kitchen door.

 

Barry visibly sagged, almost falling as he gripped the cold metal of the stool to keep balance.

 

Lisa rolled her eyes and pouted.  “You’re no fun, jerk.”

 

Len’s cold face relaxed and he smirked as his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Trainwreck.”

 

Before Lisa pushed the door open, she turned her head to look over her shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Barry,” she drawled. “And boys? Don’t spoil the brand new kitchen by having sex all over it.” She winked, and was gone with a bang of the door.

 

“Bye?” Barry said weakly, a moment too late. He could feel his face turn red from the thought of Len throwing Barry against the shelves, against the steel prep tables, against the door of the freezer, _defiling_ him on every possible surface.

 

Len stalked forward and invaded Barry’s space; the heat from his body radiated against Barry’s body and curled throughout his chest, causing him to gasp.

 

“Did you mean it? That I’m ‘sex personified’?” Len’s eyes flickered briefly down to Barry’s lips before darting back up to ensnare Barry with its intensity.

 

Barry lost his voice, throat stuck somewhere in the pit of his gut, not sure if he could even sound out words. He nodded. Len pressed in, pushing Barry’s back into the steel table, effectively trapping him between the icy cold metal and the warmth of Len’s solid body. He captured Barry’s lips in the next instant, kissing him soundly, sending pulses of white-hot electricity down Barry’s body. Barry grasped at Len’s hips, thumbs pushing underneath cloth to graze at the thin skin covering the bone as he involuntarily thrust his body forward, as if trying to merge with the other man. Barry was starving for more.

 

A loud gurgling noise came from Barry’s stomach just then and Len pulled away, lips separating from Barry’s with a loud smacking noise, despite Barry’s very vocal protest.

 

“Looks like I still need to feed you,” Len said, amused.

 

“No,” Barry said, voice muffled as he nosed forward into Len’s neck. “I’d rather just kiss you again.”

 

Barry’s stomach growled in protest at his words, causing Len to chuckle. Barry could feel the vibrations against his cheek.

 

“Well,” Len said teasingly, “I _do_ have a three-date policy, so as much as I would like to christen this kitchen with you...” He trailed off, eyes sparkling mischievously.

 

“Hey! You’ve fed me for the last five days, doesn’t that count?” Barry said, mouthing at Len’s neck as he teased the hem of the other man’s shirt.

 

Len groaned, stealing one last kiss before pulling away. “How about I make us lunch and we’ll see how it goes?”

 

Barry scraped his teeth against his bottom lip, mouth watering at both the thought of food and the thought of _more_ , but eventually nodded. Hunger had won out.

 

For now.

 

Len disappeared behind the freezer door, allowing Barry to take a moment to breathe. His heart was pounding loud in his ears from the rush of intense joy. This was it. Barry could feel it, down to his bones. It was the beginning of something good and precious.

 

“Ready for this?” Len said as he reappeared, holding a brown paper package labelled ‘tuna’ in one hand and seaweed and avocado in the other.

 

“Yes,” Barry said firmly, to both the food and to Len.

 

Barry was diving in, heart first.

**Author's Note:**

> (so, Hardyness, i know you asked for a sushi date on top of it and this story just fought it so hard, but I'm hoping that I can still write that for you as an add-on later. <3)
> 
> also, a big nod to [kashinoha](http://kashinoha.tumblr.com/) for saying hey there better be a "can’t handle the heat" phrase in this, thus resulting in an additional 3000 more words as a result. oops.


End file.
